Nobody sees as we do, he said again

I am reaching out to my roots. To simplicity. I am one for subtle details and modesty. I would like to strip myself from the illusions of superficial anything. Beliefs and traditions alike. 2014 was character-affirming, but more than anything else, it was an outline of what life could be.

I realized I was under incredible pressure to succeed in the world, to make it further than I could have ever imagined, to acquire an empire of knowledge at my disposal and to live life to the fullest. And all of that. But maybe I wanted something else. Maybe I needed something simple.

Last month I traveled to East Africa and I was reminded of everything that was once lost. The hunger for life and energy to thrive. To create and exchange positive energy with family, friends, and strangers. We’ve lost it. We’ve lost so much in the digital age; it’s frightening. I slowed down without realizing it and it was only then that life took a distinctive form for me. Suddenly I knew what I wanted. I digress.

Every day I took a motocab across the city. There’s no chaos in Kigali. The landscape was incredibly lush with greenery, softened with rising red dust. Children laughed and smiled everywhere I went. Rwandans are a profoundly kind and polite nation. I became even more aware of the Western misconception of the African continent. I felt free and light in Rwanda. Colors of the earth and the sky captivated me. I loved the sunset and the wind cooling down. Temperatures would drop below twenty degrees and every breath I took hit my lungs. I realized I lived in a world of grey and gloom and that I needed to get out of it. That there was more to life than what I had been limiting myself to. I needed to free myself.

Twenty-fourteen only began making sense to me in the last two weeks of the year. In reflection, I took every opportunity as it came, I made changes. I am at peace. I feel grounded. It’s a strange thing. I also changed my career path a little, ventured out on my own. I created my own opportunities. I decided that I had no reason to not feel accomplished. When it feels like I have no support, I still have it.

I loved being in Rwanda. I woke up with the sun each morning. I slept under a mosquito net, but there were no mosquitos. Not a single bite while I was there. Instead of instant coffee, I brew a proper cup of Rwandan roast. Sometimes French press, sometimes I cooked the coffee Turkish style, heavy on the sugar. Outside the living room, through the sliding door that lead onto a veranda, I sat in a hammock for at least half an hour. It was my morning ritual that I formed on the first day. The dogs kept me company for as long as I was interesting to them. I would talk to them as if they could respond. But they understood me. They could sense everything. They sensed my loneliness, my feeling of out of place. In the kitchen, I liked to look out the window for a while. Watch the sun, pay attention to the light, sounds. But it was always so quiet. Literally silent. No sounds of traffic or city rush. None of that. Only the sky, the sun, and the wind. And the space. There is space in Africa.

Every morning, every day, like this. I thought I didn’t need anything else.

But then it hit me. What I really wanted in life. I wanted the quiet, the sky and the kind people. I wanted the best coffee in the world. I wanted to breathe fresh air and eat only the freshest produce. I wanted to work on my own, write and create. Always create. I wanted simplicity. I wanted good quality for what it’s worth, not for what capitalism and free economy dictate. I wanted a full life that wasn’t controlled by materialism. But mostly, I craved simplicity.

By the second week, it all made sense to me. What I was going to do. What would come next. I realized that I needed to free myself. I needed to be free in order to move forward. Maybe freedom is making a choice with all your heart, knowing everything that you know and having everyone stand against you, and still being convinced that it is the right decision. That kind of thing takes guts. Maybe that’s freedom. The hope for this year is to find out.

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